The Tributes of District Four
by Annabeth Thalia Chase
Summary: The Tributes of District Four is about a girl, orphaned and weak, who gets reaped and put into the Hunger Games.
1. Introduction

Introduction

"In the ruins of a place once known as North America lies the nation of Panem, a shining capitol surrounded by twelve outlying districts. The capitol is harsh and cruel and keeps the districts in line by forcing them all to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the annual Hunger Games, a fight to the death on live TV."

I cannot tell you whether the story you are about to read is a tale of romance, suspense, or horror, because that I do not know. I don't know what lies ahead in the pages of what I am about to write, because as I speak to you now, not one sentence of this story has been written. The outline of the story is unfolding itself in my head, waiting to be recorded on paper. But past that, I do not know.

But I would like to inform you of some very important facts that are crucial to the story. Firstly, The Tributes of District Four is a parallel universe of the Hunger Games, meaning that there never was and never will be a Katniss Everdeen in Panem, there hasn't been a rebellion yet, and President Snow is still the powerful ruler of Panem.

Enjoy,

Annabeth Thalia Chase

Message me for links to the official Tributes of District Four Website.


	2. Chapter 1

My shoulder aches when I wake up. I must have slept on it wrong. Or maybe not. It could just be the cave. I sit up, still tired. This is how I wake up most mornings. You can never get enough sleep when you're sleeping on a cave floor.

I realize something strange when I sit up. I smell fresh bread. Now, there are the rare days when Slade brings by bread, but that's usually stale. This bread is fresh. I run over to the other end of the tiny, crescent shaped cave, the waves lapping at my feet. I pick up the warm bread and realize that this is good quality bread. Straight from the baker's shop by the look and smell of it. I pick it up and take a small bite. Mmm. It tastes even better than it looks.

Living in a cave, I usually don't get much food other than raw fish. You don't want to know what it tastes like. I used to have a nice house, nice food. But that all changed the day of the shipwreck. I live in District Four, the fishing district. There aren't a lot of ship wrecks, seeing that there are tons of experienced fishermen in District Four, but it does happen. This was a particularly nasty case in which an elderly light house keeper fell asleep on the job. Several fishing boats crashed into the rocks, killing hundreds of people. Including both my parents and my brother. I was the only one left in my family, with no grandparents and aunts and uncles who wouldn't accept me. But I knew I couldn't let the government find me. They would take me to a group home, and I couldn't live with that. Instead, I lived in our tiny house alone, living off the little bit of money my family had left. But when that ran out, I couldn't take care of the home, and the government sold it. So I was left to find a home of my own.

I tried a million places. Mostly alleyways, but people always found me there, threatening to take me to a group home. So I was determined to find a place where I could stay. The result was this tiny, crescent shaped cave. It was the only place I could find. I swore to never return to the cove where the ships crashed, a place I used to often swim. So I found this tiny sea-side cave instead. I've never had a problem with animals in here, so I've trusted it to be a safe place. I think of all of this as I eat the tiny loaf of bread.

I let the waves lap over my bare feet as I nibble on the bread. I wonder how today's events will go. Which families with make it through the day perfectly sane. Which families will be worrying about how they plan to survive the following weeks. Today is reaping day, and two kids from District 4 will be leaving us, probably forever. I haven't gone to the reaping ever since my family died. The government never came after me for it. Perhaps they had forgotten about me. Most people had.

I was just the starving girl in the cave. The girl who had nothing left to live for. Well, I wouldn't say nothing. That was how it used to be. But one day, my little miracle had come.

So, I'm the girl in the cave with _almost_ nothing to live for. I am only fifteen years old. No one thought much of me. But the few times I've walked around in the city, I've heard people talk about me before, not realizing that the little, smiling girl they used to know was standing right next to them.

I hear that I was a beautiful little girl once. Not anymore. Now I'm the bone thin teenager who's practically dying in a cave. But no one cares about that, other than one person.

And I assume that one person is the reason I have fresh bread right now. Because no one else who is sane would come near this cave. They all think I'm a mad lunatic. So how am I alive at this point? It's a long story.

I don't hear him approach behind me, but I can see his reflection in the rippling water. Slade. The reason I'm alive right now.

I turn around and look into his eyes. But not for the reason one would think. I'm looking in them to see their color. His eyes always seem to look the same color as the sea, so sometimes they're more green than blue, other days it's vice versa. I've even seen them have a gray tint to them on stormy days. Today they're gray and very sad.

He's always sad on reaping day. He has a good reason to be. This time five years ago, his older sister was reaped and put into the Hunger Games. She made it down to the final two, but was killed by a vicious tribute from District 1. Slade has never told me how she died. He doesn't like thinking about it. But from what I've heard, it wasn't pretty.

So how did he meet me? Well, apparently when the tribute from 1 was crowned victor, Slade couldn't bear to watch it anymore. He began a sad life, living with just his parents. His father had always been cruel and his mother was still mourning their loss. Slade began looking for something to fill the hole in his life that had been created the moment his sister was killed in the Games. He didn't mean to find me, of course. He had been out fishing to earn some extra money and he came across my cave. From his facial expression, he had recognized me as the girl in the cave there were rumors about. But he didn't appear worried. He just asked what I was doing in there, and I had to explain everything. But he started to visit me sometimes, and eventually brought me a little food. And that was how I had been managing to live for the last four years. I was eleven then. He was twelve.

But this is the first time I have gotten warm bread, I thought to myself as I take another bite. After a minute, Slade sits down. "Hey Annabelle." I can tell that he's sadder than he's letting on. But there isn't much I can do to comfort him.

"Want a bite," I finally ask him, offering him a piece of the bread.

"No, I'm not hungry."

That was his only response. Most of the reaping days since I met him have been similar to this one. Very little conversation. I usually find myself thinking sad thoughts. Maybe it's just the sad atmosphere, or maybe it's just the time my brain has to think without the two of us talking. Today I wonder why he even bothers to hang out with me, or bring me any food. Surely it doesn't give any benefit to him. Wasting his food on me. That's how I know how much he desperately needs a friend. There's no other reason that he would waste his time giving me anything. The thought begins to bother me.

"You don't have to do it you know," I say.

"What?"

"Bring me food. It's sort of a waste on your part," I admit.

He shakes his head. "It's not a waste."

"Sure it is. I mean, I can't repay you with anything, can I?"

"I don't need to be repaid. But you certainly need food, don't you?"

"Yeah," I admit. "But it's not your job to give it to me."

"You're not going to get it otherwise."

I wonder whether or not this is true. I mean, I managed on my own for about a year after the ship wreck before Slade found me. Of course, most of that food either came from the trash or was raw fish.

"I could find it myself," I tell him after thinking about it.

"And what state would you be in? Probably dying for sickness at this point." Slade sighs. "No offense or anything, but you're not in the best shape at the moment, and that would be a whole lot worse if you were still eating trash."

I look down, knowing that it's probably true. I feel ashamed at the thought, too. How vulnerable I am to the world! I rely on other people for everything. Shame is the only thing I feel right now. I know Slade didn't mean to make me upset, though. He's just having an awful day, trying to fight back memories he doesn't want to return.

"I guess so," I say. "But I still feel bad about it."

"There's nothing you can do to stop it," Slade says.

I decide to just drop the conversation. I don't want to make Slade sadder than he already is. It wouldn't be right. Not after all he's been through. Besides, I'm not really in the mood to talk either. That is the reason I don't talk, at least that's what I'm trying to tell myself. But deep down I know that I don't want to admit that Slade is right, and I can't deny it. I would probably be dead right now if it weren't from him.

I'm not exactly the type of person who would like to admit that to anyone. I hate the feeling of having to rely on others, which is really a problem in my case. But what can I do to stop it? I admit to myself that there's nothing that I can do to stop it. So I may as well stop grumbling about it. I wonder if I should try talking again. The eerie silence doesn't feel right, and I know I need something to distract my mind. But no one is in the mood to talk today. So I decide to just let time tick by, the time of the reaping looming closer and closer.

I nibble aimlessly on the tiny loaf of bread until I have finished it. That probably wasn't the best idea, because who knows when I'll have more food? Oh, well. It's too late now.

After a long silence, Slade finally stands up. "You should come to the reaping," he suggests. Me, at the reaping? "I… don't think that's possible," I tell him. "Sure it is. I'll be right back; I need to get something out of the boat." I nod and Slade goes to get whatever he needs out of his boat. He comes back in the cave with a small bag in his hand. To my surprise, he hands it to me. I open it and gasp. Inside I find a knee-length pink dress and a matching hair ribbon. "It used to be my mom's," Slade admits. "It's probably too big, but you'll manage." I'm at a loss for words. "Oh, um… thanks," I manage. He grins. "No problem. But since you don't have an excuse not to go, I expect to see you at the reaping later." Then he leaves without a word. I decide I better hurry if I'm going to get to the center square in time for the reaping.

I try not to think of how odd I must look as I make my way to the edge of town. Now, there are a few things you should probably know about District Four. People always think that people in Career Districts always live the good life, and that's probably true in 1 and 2, but not as much in 4. The wealthy people, the Peacekeepers, live in luxury because they don't have to worry about being abused by other Peacekeepers, but the rest of the District's people have to live in fear of what could happen if they get on the Peacekeepers' bad side. Most of the District's people do get away with a pretty nice life, but not as perfect as one from another district would think it is. See, no one is actually allowed to eat the fish they catch unless they pay for it, or if it's too rotten, small, and injured to sell. So there's always a night or two every once in a while where a family is stuck eating bad fish. And, most of the time, it smells like fish everywhere you go. Not the most pleasant smell.

So, whenever anyone sees pictures of District Four, it's usually of the seafront, where all the shops are painted bright colors and everything looks nice and clean. But that's not where I'm headed today.

I duck into a public restroom to change, not the most pleasant place, but pretty much my only option at the moment. When I come out, I'm presentable enough, though not perfect. Now I have to head to the public square, where for the first time ever since the year of that horrible shipwreck, I'll get to witness two tributes, one boy and one girl, have their names pulled out of the reaping ball and stuck into the Hunger Games.

I can't help but wonder how much Slade's family must despise this day. I don't know how they even manage to make it to the reaping without having some sort of mental breakdown after what happened to their last child. The Capitol is a cruel, cruel place. But there's nothing anyone can do to stop it.

I slowly make my way into the public square, which is packed with thousands of people. I don't remember it being this crowded, but I haven't been here in such a long time, it doesn't surprise me. Honestly, I haven't been _anywhere_ in a long time. I probably would get lost in the city if it weren't for the bustling crowds, who were all making their way to one destination.

I see Slade on my way to a group of fifteen-year-olds. He manages to give me a quick wink before being herded off in the crowd with the other kids his age. As I stare around at the other fifteen-year-olds, I can't help but ask myself if one of them will be this year's tribute. I guess we'll find out.

The crowd goes silent as the mayor steps up to the podium that sits in the center of the large stage in front of the Justice Building. He begins to tell the tale of a country called Panem, that rose out of the ashes of a nation once called North America. He probably knows that no one is listening to him, but it is required that he read the speech anyway. By the end of his long lecture about the rebellion that lead to the Hunger Games, many people are bored. Most are relieved when he finishes the speech and begins reading the list of past Hunger Games victors.

I am paying little attention as he reads them off the list, one by one. Since District Four is technically considered a Career District, the list is pretty long. Of course, it can't be nearly as long as the list of District 1 and 2 victors. Those kids are trained to kill from the day they can walk.

Two of the more recent Hunger Games victors from District Four step up onto the stage. One, a girl, appears to be a little under thirty years old, so it probably wasn't too long ago that she won these games herself. The next, the male, follows her. He appears to be a bit older than the woman, but definitely under the age of forty. They shake hands with the mayor and then take their seats in the two chairs on the stage that are set out for them.

The mayor then introduces the District Four escort, a woman named Zia Oleander. She is an over-enthusiastic woman who is now wearing a raspberry colored suit and whose bright yellow hair is up in a beehive style. She is truly frightening to look at, as most of the Capitol citizens are.

After a brief speech that no one is paying attention to, she announces, "Ladies first," like all the other escorts say when they are about to draw the girl's names at the reaping. I feel a pang of dread for whoever is put into these awful games. But when the girl tribute's name is read out, I no longer feel any remorse for anyone. It's myself that I fear for. Because Zia Oleander has clearly read the name Annabelle Fay into the microphone.


	3. Chapter 2

I feel like I can't breathe, much less speak. All of the murmurs I hear around me have just been tuned out in a faint buzzing and my only focus is the tiny slip of paper sitting in Zia Oleander's hand. How is it possible that my name, out of thousands of kids, is picked today?

This isn't possible. But apparently Zia Oleander doesn't care if it's not possible, because she just read my name into the microphone. I get a ton of stares. I hear some muttering, like some of these people don't even know who I am.

I begin to slowly making my way up to the stage, still not believing that this is happening. Perhaps I expect Zia Oleander to say something like "Just kidding," or "Wrong name," or something like that, but nothing comes. So I'm forced to step up onto the stage, accepting the reality that I'm the District 4 tribute.

I know that I'm probably shaking and look pretty dumb right now, but I guess I have a good reason to. Because accepting the fact that you're a tribute is the equivalent of accepting the fact that you'll be dead in less than a month. Not only that, but you'll probably die a slow, painful, death. Real cheery.

Accepting your certain death is not an easy thing to do for anyone, anytime, anywhere. Why would it be? But it's the torture that the tributes are put through each year. And that's what has just happened to me. The one time I show up for reaping, my name is pulled out of the ball.

But is this really so different from how I've been living a majority of my life? I've practically been a hollow shell, sitting, speechless for years. Perhaps it's best that my life ends here. I don't have much to live for at the moment.

My eyes search around the crowd, trying to find Slade, but I don't see him. I always thought that he would be easy for me to find in a crowd, but apparently I was wrong. I tend to be wrong about a lot of things.

There are so many thoughts swarming around in my head, that when Zia Oleander says, "Now for the boys," it's more of a faint hum in the back of my head.

I only have a split second to worry for Slade's safety before Zia Oleander reaches her hand into the boys' ball. She pulls out the tiny piece of paper that has the name of this year's tribute on it. The only noise is the thump of Zia's heels as she walks up to the microphone.

When she reads the name, "Quinten Ortega," into the microphone, I am temporarily relieved. Slade is safe. A little boy, he must be twelve, stumbles up to the stage, looking shocked. He's rather scrawny and I feel sort of bad for him. Hopefully, I won't be the one to have to kill him.

"Now," Zia says into the microphone. "Do we have any girl volunteers?" Silence. I'm not surpised. "Okay, any male volunte-" She's interrupted with a, "I VOLUNTEER." My eyes scan the crowd for the person who so abruptly volunteered. I catch a sideways glance at Quinten to see if he may show any familiarity to the voice who said it, but he looks as surprised as I am. Then who… I get my answer as Slade stumbles to the front of the crowd.

Oh no.

This cannot be happening, but I know it is. "Well, it appears we have a volunteer," Zia says, slightly perturbed. This isn't as common in District 4 as it is in 1 and 2, seeing that in those districts, people volunteer for no good reason once they're 18. That doesn't happen as much in 4, but it sometimes does. And today, District 4 has a volunteer.

How could he be stupid enough to do that? Quinten Ortega seems stunned and bounds off the stage, and Slade climbs on. "And your name is?" Zia asks him. He gives her his name.

I don't listen to anything else that Zia Oleander says for the rest of the ceremony, mostly because I feel no need to. I see Slade's mother crying in the back of the crowd, and she eventually has to be lead off by Peacekeepers. Why is he doing this? Leaving his family behind as they watch him loose his life to the same Games that took his sister's. What was he thinking when he volunteered? I'm very mad at him at the moment.

I realize that I'm being steered off the stage by Peacekeepers. They lead us into the District Four Justice Building, where I'm stuck in a room to do nothing for the next hour. Of course, this is normally when the tributes say goodbye to their friends and family, but of course, I don't have anyone to say goodbye to me. I decided to take advantage of this time as quiet time to sort my thoughts out.

I sit down on the couch, the only piece of furniture in this tiny room, and try to sort things out. I was chosen as tribute. Slade volunteered. Now we have to kill each other. But why did he volunteer? By the surprised look on Quinten Ortega's face, he didn't know Slade. So why would Slade volunteer for him?

Either way, I'm mad at him for leaving his family behind like that. Of course, he could win these Games if he tried. He's technically a Career. I am too, but I'm in no shape to win these Games. I don't stand a chance. Of course, I don't have anything to come back to, anyway. But he does. He has a whole life ahead of him. Which just makes me even madder.

Maybe he volunteered for his family benefit. Maybe he knew that he could win, and that his family would have a lot more money if he won. But for some reason, I don't think that was his motivation.

I am still thinking about this when the first visitor comes in. I don't realize that anyone was coming until I hear the door creak open. I'm surprised to see that it's little Quinten here to wish me luck.

"I hope you do well, we'll be cheering for you," he says, and then quickly leaves before I can respond.

I know he'll have a lot more to say to Slade than me. But it was still nice of him to come by. I decide to stop trying to figure out why Slade volunteered, since it's too late to change anything. I can worry about my own strategy in the Games, not his.

I'm not exactly sure what I plan for that strategy to be. I mean, I know I'm obviously not coming out alive, but I can still try not to get killed in some painful, nasty way. I suppose that my greatest advantage will be that I'm small. I don't weigh much, so hopefully that will help me somewhat. Not enough to get me out of the Games, but hopefully enough to get me out of the Bloodbath alive.

I wonder what my mentors will tell me to do. What outfits my stylist will make me. What my prep team will be like. Will anyone be nice in the Capitol? Most likely not, but I can hope. What will the Capitol think of this little girl? I'm pretty sure that nothing anyone does will make me noticeable to the crowd.

I hear another creak, and the door opens once more. A girl with dark brown hair and sea green eyes enters the room. I don't recognize her, though I feel like I should.

She swiftly, but quietly, walks over to an empty chair and sits down. I suddenly realize who she is by the way she walks. The last time I saw her was when I was about five years old, I think. How could she possibly remember me? She was the little girl that worked with my mother that I used to play around with. Most of those memories just include us getting very, very wet, but everything is wet in District 4. I remember that her name is Alicia Opalheart.

"You remember me," I say, rather surprised.

She smiles. "Yes, and I'm here to wish you luck. I really do hope you do well in the Games."

"Thanks," I tell her. I don't bother to say that it's practically impossible. She would probably do better in these Games than I would.

"So what made you want to come say goodbye," I ask her, sort of curious as to why it would matter to her.

"Well, you're my friend, for one thing, and I know that you'll need the encouragement," she tells me.

I nod. This makes sense. Before I can say anything else, the Peacekeepers come in and lead her out.

I'm glad I at least had someone come say goodbye to me. At least I don't have to go through any serious emotional goodbyes today.

I hear something coming from the hallway and I realize that Slade's mother is crying again. Okay, not crying, sobbing. This makes me feel bad, but I can't control it. I couldn't control that Slade volunteered, either.

After a little while, we are escorted out for the short ride to the train station, where we'll get on one of the Capitol's high-speed trains and head to the Capitol. I don't talk to Slade during the ride, and I don't intend to. He makes no attempt to talk to me, either, but I'm fine this way.

At the train station, we wait a few minutes while our pictures are taken, and then board the train, bound for the Capitol.


	4. Chapter 3

The moment I step onto the train, I feel like I'm in another world. I know it's a silly thing to say, of course, but even the Capitol's trains are so much different than the rusty, creaky trains in the districts used to transport things. I have never ridden a train before.

I make no eye contact with Slade as Zia Oleander gives us instructions. She tells us that we need to be in the dining car for dinner in exactly one hour, but we can do whatever we want in our compartments until then. She recommends we freshen up. I know this is more for her benefit than ours, most people in District Four spend most of their time smelling like fish, but the Capitol citizens, like Zia, are used to perfection, and I know she'll want me to look presentable. So I agree to go take a shower.

I make my way to my compartment. It is complete with a bedroom area, dressing area, and bathroom. I decide to go ahead and take the shower. I find my self confronted with at least a hundred different buttons, all controlling temperature and soap variety. After being deluged with both burning hot and freezing cold water, I figure out how to work the temperature controls. That's a relief, but now I have to figure out how to work the soap controls without getting totally covered with the stuff.

It's not hard how to figure out how to use the soap controls, but then I have to figure out which scent I want. So, after sniffing the many different soaps available, I finally decide that I like a lemon-scented one.

I step out of the shower, where a machine dries me off and combs my hair automatically. I walk over to the dresser and rummage through the drawers until I find something somewhat casual- a blue top and white jeans.

I sit in my room until Zia comes to get me for dinner. She leads me into the dining compartment, where we sit down at the currently empty table. Though the food isn't here yet, the dishes are, and I can tell that they are all extremely fragile, and expensive. The plate in front of me has a carving of some sort of tropical bird in it, its brightly colored plumage extending all over the plate. I wonder if all the plates have birds on them. But I look at the seat next to me, and the plate there has a golden engraving of the Sun in it. I come to conclude that though all the carvings in the plates are different, they all have something to do with nature. It's nice looking and I think it's sort of a shame that I'll be getting it all dirty with food.

The rest of the table is occupied by the other plates, and lots of silver forks, spoons, and knives. There's a fancy floral arrangement in the center of the table.

The silence is broken when Slade and our two mentors enter the room. "There you are," Zia exclaims and motions for them to sit down at the table with us.

Shortly after we're all seated, the first course of our meal comes out. Silent waiters and waitresses bring us our food. Based on what I've heard, I think they're Avoxes.

The first course of our meal is salad and soup. Not just one soup, though. At least a dozen choices are set out on the table in front of us, and there's at least five salad choices. And to the girl who's been living off of fish and stale bread the majority of her life, this is overwhelming.

I decide to try a bacon and potato soup first. Some of the other soups have such strange ingredients in them, that I'm not sure they're edible. But the potato soup has lots of bacon and has a lot of cheddar in it. I like it.

I'm only halfway through the huge bowl of soup when the next course comes out. A variety of meats and side dishes are placed in front of us. Steak, chicken, pork, any type of meat imaginable is here along with a variety of sides, ranging from fresh fruit to baked potatoes. I take some steak and mashed potatoes.

More foods follow, including fruit, cheese, and vegetables, but the real treat is desert. I'm already stuffed from all the food, but it can't hurt to put on a few pounds before the Games. I take a big bite of moist, chocolate cake filled with chocolate filling.

I've finished the cake before I know it. It's very good and I would like some more, but I'm so stuffed that I probably can't hold another bite.

Eating so much food at once makes me feel a little sick, but I don't regret eating it, because I know I could use the extra pounds. Once we're all finished with our food, we go to another compartment to watch the recaps of all of this year's reapings.

One by one, we watch the tributes from each district be called. A small girl with auburn hair from District 1, a muscular boy from 2 with shaggy black hair, and two extremely clever looking, dark-skinned kids from District 11 are the ones that stand out most to me. Of course, for all I know, a lot of the other tributes could be much harder to fight than them.

Once we finish watching the reapings, Zia tells us that we can spend a few minutes to get to know our mentors a little bit, but then we should go to bed, because we'll have a big day tomorrow. She then leaves the room.

Slade's mentor leads him off to talk. I still haven't said anything to him since the reaping. I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn around to find my mentor standing behind me.

She begins with a formal, "Hello, Annabelle," and motions for me to sit down on the couch.

"So, I'm assuming you're trying to figure out why Slade volunteered," she asked, though it didn't seem like much of a question.

"Yeah, do you know?" I hope she does, but she shakes her head.

"Well, I'm Jessa, your mentor, and I'll do the best I can to help you in the Games," she tells me.

"Thanks," I say, the same response to all the others who have wished me luck today.

There's something that I'm curious about. "How old were you when you got in the Games?" I hope she doesn't mind me asking.

"Fifteen," she replies. To my relief, she doesn't seem to mind answering. So she was just a year younger than me when she was in the arena herself. Huh.

"Oh, okay, I was just curious," I tell her. She nods.

Jessa sweeps a strand of straight, blonde hair behind her ear. Though she's obviously older than twenty, she doesn't look that much older than I do. I wonder how hard it is for her to be here, mentoring a tribute.

I don't say anything for a while, but notice the time a few minutes later. "I should probably get to bed," I tell her, and then leave the compartment.

I have no intention to go to bed, not yet. I have to find Slade first. I assume he's in his room, so I decide to check there first. I knock on his door, but don't get a response. He's surely not asleep yet, so he must be somewhere else.

I finally give up looking and decide that he's probably still talking to his mentor, so I just go and sit back down on the couch. Jessa must've already left, because the room is unoccupied other than me.

A few minutes later, Slade enters. "What in the _world_ were you thinking when you volunteered," I half asked, half yelled the moment he was in the room.

"You know what I was doing."

"Getting yourself killed!"

"Probably," he admits.

"Why!"

"We're getting you home to District 4," he says matter-of-factly.  
>"Oh no we're not." I have no intention of going home.<p>

"Yes we are, and you can't stop me."

"You can't do this!"

"And why not?"

"Because you can't die to get me back home!"

"Well, try as you will, you're not going to change my mind," he snaps and then leaves.

Now I'm in an awful mood, so I storm back to my room, making sure to slam the door behind me. If I'm going to cry, now is the time, but no tears come, so I just stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep.


End file.
